


Old Habits

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 01:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So here he was, sitting in the safehouse, alone in front of the fireplace. He'd been staring into the flames for awhile now, thinking about Shaw, Root, Finch, Iris, and Joss. Jessica. </p>
<p>(Set after Zoe says sleep tight to John in 4x14.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify for the Rinchers - Finch and Reese aren't together in this one. John's just pining away.
> 
> This is my take on what's going on with John romantically in this episode. I love all the wonderful female characters, you'll find no bashing here. Root/Shaw is briefly mentioned.

He'd lied to Zoe. Sure, he did in fact have plenty of catching up to do after his unpaid leave, evidence logs to fill out, a million other little things to keep the Captain off his back. And there was always more digging to be done on those three missing persons. But he hadn't really been intending to work at all. He could have spent the night with her. Sadly there was too much else on his mind to give her anything like his full attention, and she deserved better than that.

 

So here he was, sitting in the safehouse, alone in front of the fireplace. He'd been staring into the flames for a while now, thinking about Shaw, Root, Finch, Iris, and Joss. Jessica. On some level, he'd figured Shaw was indestructible. He'd understood what Root meant about nothing killing that cat. But he'd thought the same about Joss, before her blood had coated his hands, before he'd cradled her trembling body in his arms. He knew she was dead. They all were, everyone he'd ever loved. Except Finch.

 

And then there were the people he was just beginning to care for. Root was part of the family now, always would be, regardless of whether she decided to go it alone for now. Iris was more like Jessica, patient and empathetic, allowing him to feel human instead of dismissing himself as a monster. He'd come a long way in the last few years, but there were still plenty of demons he couldn't face, and he was going to need her for that.

 

He needed Harold, too. Finch had come up here earlier hoping to relax and chat with him; it was a shame they'd had work to do instead. Then again, it was too much fun to get Finch riled up, verbally sparring with him about the case. Kinda hot, too, when Finch had finally leapt up and towered over him, proclaiming Bryson's guilt, eyes blazing. John had partially covered his own mouth with his hand, to stifle the mad urge to get up and kiss him. He wondered what Zoe would have made of that.

 

_You don't know me as well as you think you do_ , he'd told her, and meant it. He'd been worried for a moment, when she guessed he was interested in someone, but then she said 'she', so she didn't really have a clue. The longing had eased of late, now that he was getting to see Finch more, semi-regular breakfast meetings and extended phone calls. If he could just spend time in his company and know he was relatively safe for the moment, that was enough for John. The few weeks they'd gone completely without contact after Samaritan first came online had been agony.

 

John fished out his phone and ran his thumb over the screen, finding the most recent text Finch had sent him. He could message him now, make sure he'd got back to Whistler's apartment safely, but Harold had already said he was tired when he left, and if he'd gone to bed John wouldn't risk waking him. He put the phone back in his pocket.

 

_It's just you and me again_ , Finch had said that morning in the diner, and John had experienced a momentary sense of relief, followed by a swift avalanche of guilt. His joy at being part of a wonderful team had often warred with the desire to have Finch all to himself, and now that the team was broken, he didn't know what to feel.

 

Finch had quietly told him about Root begging the Machine for Shaw's whereabouts. Much as John had done himself once, bargaining his own life for Finch's location. He and Root had grown to have more in common than he could ever have predicted, back then. They had both fallen in love with emotionally reserved, big-picture people. Shaw had always put the mission first. Harold's mission.

 

John sighed. This was getting him nowhere. Helpful as the sessions were, Iris had got him into the habit of reflecting too much. He stood up and went to the table with the drinks on, poured himself just a drop of whisky and then wandered back over to the fireplace, glass in hand. He toasted the air, drank to Shaw's memory, and set about grabbing a few hours of sleep.


End file.
